All that Glitters is not Gold A Working Title
by Natalie Zee
Summary: A novellalength so far fic set during the Legends trilogy. Once Dalamar's status as a spy is revelead, the conclave nominates a second apprentice to serve as a back up. They think they are sending Thalia Deryn to her death. Not quite.
1. Default Chapter

A Forward-Facing Foreword: Or, A Warning, of Sorts.

First of all, it is with all humility and deepest admiration that I acknowledge that the setting and most of the characters that appear in this fan fiction are not mine. I am merely borrowing them, and bow deeply before all the authors (especially Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman) who have created them and worked with them legitimately. Wizards of the Coast (and TSR, may it rest in peace) receive my kudos as well. I hope my scribblings do not offend.

Now, I think I really ought to explain what I am doing here.

The story that follows is to some degree a self-insertion. Thalia Deryn (one of the few characters appearing here that I have the dubious honour of owning) is entirely her own, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that some of her reactions and characteristics are modelled after my own. I know stories of this ilk seem to garner an extra helping of derision. I can only promise that while Thalia began as me, she seems to have evolved into an antonymous and different character in the writing. We'll see how un-lame I can make that.

Since this story contains characters that most definitely did not appear in the original novels and short stories, it can't really be considered a work on canonical fan fiction. That being said, while I mess with the timeline (particularly at the beginning), I do not change any of the key events that take place in the stories until the very end. The story takes place during the Legends trilogy. With the notable exception of an extra three months or so at the beginning, nothing truly changes in terms of the original narrative storyline until the end of the third book (Test of the Twins). I am changing the outcome, but leaving the journey largely intact.

Having said that, I do not consider plot events to be sacrosanct and inviolate. If I do want to change something, I will. My primary concern in terms of the preservation of Dragonlance canon has been to keep the characters as true to themselves and acting as "in character" as I possibly can. Feedback on the quality of my representations of the characters, especially the authenticity of their reactions, is particularly appreciated.

Now, a brief word on exactly what I am doing here:

The story begins about a quarter to the third of the way through Legends: Time of the Twins. It opens with Dalamar reporting Raistlin's plans to go back in time and seek godhood to the Conclave, displaying the five bloody marks Raistlin's fingertips burned into his flesh as a punishment for his treachery. This, however, is where my first major change to the story takes place: Raistlin is not ready to leave for the past just yet. This report takes place approximately three months before that; also, by extension, about three months before Caramon, Tas , and Bupu show up at the Tower of Wayreth. This has the dual effect of putting Dalamar in an extra-dangerous situation (he's been found out, and Raist is still in the immediate picture), and gives the Conclave a little longer to figure things out and try something else. Both of these effects serve my purposes nicely. I hope that clears up any of the immediate timeline confusion.

Occasionally, I am using Weis and Hickman's actual text to anchor my own. Everything that is directly quoted (or changed very, very little) appears in italics. Cuts are indicated by ...

One more thing: while this is in no way a songfic, it has a specific soundtrack. I regularly pull lyrics to use as epigraphs or even to serve as an intertext. I've used everything from musical theatre to death metal. The resulting soundtrack CDs are...fabulous. )

I think that's all that needs to be immediately addressed. If anything else needs to be cleared up in the future, here's where the explanatory notes will be.

I had a blast writing this. It was far more work that I intended, but so much fun. Ah the hours I could have been writing papers. I hope you have even a smidge as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Enjoy. May Lunitari smile on you and guide your minds.


	2. Chapter 1: Desperate Times

Chapter 1

Note: This is not the same conclave meeting that takes place in Time of the Twins, beginning in Chapter 12. Caramon, Tas and Bupu are not present; Raistlin is not yet ready to leave. Dalamar, however, has both discovered/been told Raistlin's plans and been punished for his "extracurricular" activities.

_A sneering voice rang through the hall. "You are a fool, Great One!"_

_... "I think you should explain yourself, Dalamar," Par-Salian said quietly. "Why am I a fool?"_

_...Dalamar sneered. "_He_ does not plan to conquer the world! The world means nothing to him. He could have the world tomorrow, tonight, if he wanted it!"_

"_Then what does he want?" This question came form a red-robed mage seated near Par-Salian._

_The delicate, cruel features of the dark elf relaxed into a smile. "he wants to become a god, Dalamar said softly. "He will challenge the Queen of Darkness herself. That is his plan."_

_The mages said nothing, they did not move, but their silence seemed to stir among them like shifting currents of air as they stared at Dalamar with glittering, unblinking eyes._

_Then Par-Salan sighed. "I think you overestimate him."_

_There was a ripping, rending sound, the sound of cloth being torn apart. The dark elf's arms jerked, tearing open the fabric of his robes._

"_Is this overestimating him?" Dalamar cried._

_The mages leaned forward, a gasp whispered through the hall like a chill wind. ..._

"_You see the mark of his hand upon me," Dalamar hissed. "Even now, the pain is almost more than I can bear." The young elf paused, then added through clenched teeth, "he said to give you his regards, Par-Salian!"_

_The great mage's head bent. The hand rising to support it shook as with palsy. He seemed old, feeble, weary. For a moment, the mage sat with his eyes covered, then he raised his head and looked intently at Dalamar. _

"_So, our worst fears have been realized." Par-Salian's eyes narrowed questioningly. "He knows, then, that we sent you--"_

"_To spy on him?" Dalamar laughed, bitterly. "Yes, he knows!" the dark elf spit the words. "He's known all along. He's been using me –using all of us – to further his own ends....You are wise to be afraid, Great One." Dalamar's voice sank to a whisper. "But no matter how great your fear, you do not fear him enough. Oh yes, he lacks power to cross that dread threshold. But that power he goes to find. Even as we speak, he is preparing himself for the long journey. Upon my return tomorrow, we will begin--"_

_Par-Salian raised his head. "Your return?" He asked, shocked. "But he knows you for what you are—a spy, sent by us, the Conclave, his fellows." The great mage's glance went to the chair that stood empty amidst the black robes, then he rose to his feet. "No, young Dalamar. You are very courageous, but I cannot allow you to return to what would undoubtedly be tortured death at his hands."_

"_You cannot stop me," Dalamar said, and there was no emotion in his voice. "I said before—I would give my soul to study with one such as he. And now, though it costs me my life, I will stay with him. He expects me back...."_

"_He expects you to return?" the red-robed mage said dubiously. "You who have betrayed him?" _

"_He knows me, said Dalamar bitterly. "He knows he has ensnared me. He has stung my body and sucked my soul dry, yet I will return to the web. Nor will I be the first..."_

From _Time of the Twins_

Par-Salian did not have to call them. Once the Conclave had disbanded and the wild-eyed Dalamar withdrew, Par-Salian retreated to his study. He rematerialized in a room at the top of the tower only to find the heads of the other two orders on his heels.

Ladonna, the head of the Black Robes, stood with her arms folded and her spine straight as a poker, her eyes glittering gimlet-bright in her still beautiful face. Justarius limped over to a chair and, with the barest glance of assent from Par-Salian, lowered himself heavily onto the overstuffed cushion. The head of the Red Robes' usually jovial face was tense and drawn. He absently rubbed at his crippled leg, sighing deeply. Par-Salian slowly groped to the chair behind the alter-like desk of white stone like a blind man.

Ladonna spoke first. "We can't leave Dalamar alone with him."

"You know him better that I," Par-Salian said. "Is there no way we can stop him?"

"Not without deadly force. So unless you wanted to simply keep the pleasure of killing Dalamar from _him_..."

Par-Salian glared at her. "I won't stop him."

"Then you certainly can't let him go alone."

"And what should I do? Send another? Let him savage the body and destroy the soul of another of our brightest young lights?"

Ladonna's steel frame seemed to soften the barest fraction. "We can no longer rely on Dalamar alone. While I do not believe he would intentionally keep anything from us, his spirit is no longer his own. He is serving two masters now, and that tension will tear him apart. We must send a second."

"It will be the same, Ladonna--"

"They don't need to be ours for long. A few months is all we'll need. If they are swallowed by the same darkness, so be it; we will have what we need."

Par-Salian hung his head. He sat broken and nerveless, as though all of his joints had been clipped.

Ladonna lowered herself into the remaining chair, leaned forward. She seemed to stop just short of reaching out for him. "It is a terrible price, Old Friend," she said quietly. "We knew that when we decided on this course of action. If there is any hope for us, we must follow this to the end."

Justarius sat up straighter. His face seemed to hold the sorrow of the mountains mourning the dying world. "If this mission is to succeed, I do not see another way either, Great One," the red robe said. "I can't imagine who we would send--"

"There is one."

Ladonna looked at Par-Salian quizzically. After a glace at his face she understood who the aging mage meant and, closing her eyes, gave a tiny nod.

"I did not at first understand why Paladine had called me to test her so early. She must have been meant for this."

Justarius frowned, his countenance like chiselled granite. "No."

"She is by far and away the best choice, my friend," Par-Salian said, his crumpled voice beginning to regain some strength.

"For the love of the gods, Par-Salian, she's a child. He'll rip her apart."

"She performed phenomenally well on her test."

"And we know she is loyal to the Conclave." She met Justarius' eyes. "I know you were hoping to take her on as an apprentice yourself, and I commend the choice. It is a tragedy." Her face hardened. "Just as Dalamar was going to be mine, before this. There are sacrifices to be made, my friend. Dalamar is too loyal now to his _Shalafi_, to desparate for the knowledge Rastilin has to impart. He will never be ours, fully, again."

Justarius's shoulders fell. "And soon, neither will she. But you are right, Ladonna. It is my turn to feel this sacrifice most acutely."

"We all feel it, my friend." Par-Salian rose, suddenly gaining strength, his resolve shining platinum. "She is the best we have. But would he accept anything less than the best?"

Ladonna and Justarius stood as well, both feeling the weight of the sentence they were pronouncing an you newest of their number. "We should not tell her why she is being sent, initially," Ladonna said then. "Her ignorance will, for a brief time, protect her until she is fully accepted as an apprentice."

Par-Salian nodded. "I'll send a message to Palanthas directly."

Ladonna curled her lip. "be sure to mention that, after Dalamar reported on his ...unique _teaching methods_, we were wondering if he would considering giving a second apprentice the chance for a similarly exceptional education."

"This is not a joke, Ladonna." Justarius snarled in the doorway.

"Isn't it? I thought the joke had been on us til now..."

Ladonna and Justarius vanished. Par-Salian resumed his seat, drew a fresh scroll and a quill to himself, and began to write to the only other master of a magical tower currently living on Krynn. While he wrote, he began a second composition in his mind: what he was going to tell the young apprentice, very close to the youngest ever to take and survive the test, second only to _him_. As he imagined what he would say to her, he had to lower his eagle quill with a shaking hand. The Head of the Conclave was temporarily blinded by unbidden tears as he pictured her complete joy at the prospect of what he knew she would believe was the most incredible opportunity of her young life: the chance to study with the greatest magic-user in the world.


End file.
